Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Something Died In There.

We left for a four day mini vacation on Friday. Took a six hour drive down to Virginia to see my husband's great Aunt. As we were leaving the house I turned on the dishwasher. My husband freaked his freak out and turned it off.

Because the dishwasher will break if you leave it turned on while you're not home.

I rolled my eyes, and threatened him with a great stink when we got home. However, I can't say much because he has this rule about washing machines as well, and once I ignored the rule. And came home to a river running through my laundry room, across the hallway and down the stairs.


So I continue to roll my eyes and declare that the dishwasher is going to reek. He promises it won't because he rinsed the dishes.

We leave.

We have a great time in VA, the kids play like crazy and we get to visit with his aunt.

We come home (the trip home is hellacious. It take 1 hour and 45 minutes for the kids to settle in and accept the fact that they are going to be in the car for 6 hours so for the love of all that is holy just be quiet and watch the movie. Any movie.

We get home, empty the van (I go for a RUN, but more on that later), and shower the kids. After everyone is in bed, my husband opens the dishwasher to put soap in it.


It wafts over and through the entire downstairs. It's so bad I'm sure I can see it. It's oily and black and overwhelming. My eyes water, my nostrils flare and I gag. I start lighting candles.

We go to bed.

This morning: I open the clean dishwasher. AND THE STENCH. OH THE STENCH.

Then I become an old nag and start snipping at my husband about it. I fill it with soap, again, and slam the door.

2 hours later I open the door.


I pour soap and vinegar in it. Say a little prayer, and turn it on.

2 hours later I open it.


I'm on the phone with Diana (over at hormonal imbalances. Did you know she's having TWINS?? we were OMG-ing over that) when I open the dishwasher for the THIRD time and guess what?


I reach in and pull out a glass. I can smell the sour milk -chunky egg-rotten cream cheese-old salad dressing smell baked onto it.

I gag. And rant at Diana. We decide to pour some bleach in.

2 hours later I open the dishwasher.

And the beautiful, warm, clean, nose hair burning scent of bleach wafts out.


(and yes, I washed them one more time to rinse the bleach off them.)